Wilting Flower
by Adeline Astrid
Summary: The concept of the morphlings in Catching Fire has always fascinated me. How did they come to be this way? Why do they love art? Did she have a personal motive when she protected Peeta? Hence I wanted to write a story that was from the perspective of the female morphling. This is her story. Her name is Brionwy Wesberry. And she was a tribute in the Fifty-Second Hunger Games.


**Wilted Flower**

**Chapter I:**

Today was reaping day, not that anyone was likely to forget. The prospect hung in the air like a heavy cloud or a detestable plague.

Even little Tyff had an ashen quality to her complexion, and her small mouth was set in a firm line, lacking its usual warmth.

Every five minutes or so old Mrs. Flowers would wring her hands nervously. Everyone regarded her as more of a mother figure rather than the mistress of the District Six Orphanage.

"Come along, children. I've laid out your clothes." She had told us in a grim voice, after breakfast that morning.

The scurrying of feet that ensued was just about the only sound that anyone dared to make all morning. Breakfast, which the boys usually fought over, sat untouched.

"Here we are," Mrs. Flowers said as she procured a plain black dress with a skirt that fell just below the knee. "It was mine when I was sixteen. I was a bit taller than you Brionwy, but it should fit." She tried to smile and failed. I mumbled my thanks and accepted it.

Kalel, the beauty of the group, had already zipped up her dress and was admiring her reflection in the mirror. She wore a pale blue dress in a similar fashion to mine. It brought out the china blue of her eyes. But, she was Kalel and probably would have looked lovely in a potato sack.

My brother Ryelf, who was two years my senior, had a hard time not ogling at her. Every few seconds he would sneak a glance as he tried to act preoccupied in tying his tie.

I laughed, and elbowed him in the ribs as I walked by. "It's rude to stare, or have you forgotten?" I whispered, and giggled when he flushed.

"I wasn't staring."

"What do you call gawking at someone with your mouth hanging open?" I retorted.

He scowled at that.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Ghost, stooped over, helping Jamie with his tie. Ghost was hard to miss with his shocking white blonde hair. We were both sixteen and had been best friends since forever. When we were younger, we would make mud pies and throw them at Ryelf for fun.

Tyff danced over, her curly red hair had been tamed into a braid by Mrs. Flowers and she now wore a dull crimson dress. "When I grow up, I'm going to look as pretty as you, Brionwy."

I chuckled at that, no one but Tyff called me pretty. "No Tyff, you're going to be way more beautiful than me."

This seemed to please her and she smiled as she skipped off.

I pinched my cheeks for some color, and sighed. I was grateful for Mrs. Flower's dress but the black blended too well with my hair and made me appear washed out. Finally I shrugged, it couldn't be helped and I had to accept it.

"Yoo-hoo! Do you want some, Brionwy?" Kalel hollered from across the room holding up a red flower petal. Cosmetics were expensive and rare in District Six so women often used the stain from flowers for their lips and cheeks.

I smiled, it was a nice offer. "Thanks Kalel, but I'm good."

She shrugged, "Alright."

At quarter to twelve we made our way to the town square.

The peacekeepers in shiny white uniforms ushered us into our respective places based on age. Tyff and Jamie clutched Mrs. Flowers's hands in the back, with the crowd. Tyff at barely five and Jamie at ten were too young to be reaped. I couldn't help but feel relieved, at least they were safe.

Ghost stood next to me, "May the odds be ever in your favor." He joked with a grin that didn't reach his eyes.

"You, too. May the odds be ever in your favor." I replied my fingers trembled slightly.

Kalel stood in front of us separated by a frayed rope barrier. She turned and smiled, a worried expression in her eyes.

In the row before her, closest to the stage I could make out the back of my brother's head. I wrung my fingers nervously, imitating Mrs. Flowers. This year was his last year. _He couldn't be picked, he couldn't_. I chewed on my bottom lip as a small voice in the back of my head reminded me that his name was on nearly twenty slips of paper in the drawing. Mostly from the rations he had taken. _There must be someone with more slips of paper than him._ I soothed myself casting a quick glance at all the gaunt and fear stricken faces around me.

And what about Kalel and Ghost they each had at least a dozen slips.

Ghost must have noticed my uneasiness for his hand found mine and he squeezed. "Don't worry, Brionwy, we'll all be fine. This happens every year and nothing ever comes of it."

I looked over at him and tried to smile reassuringly.

As the clock tower struck twelve, Cosette mounted the stage. She was the District Six escort and everyone knew that she was pining for a better position. Hardly anyone ever won from District Six. Correction only one person had. Like everyone from the Capitol she was shockingly colorful.

From beside me I heard Ghost stifle a snicker. And it was easy to see why.

Her ensemble was just as outrageous as ever, if not more. This year her hair was pale seaweed green, her eyelids and lips were painted to match. Swirling tattoos of darker ivy green ornamented her pale skin. And her apple green dress gave her the appearance of a gigantic green peach.

"We should be respectful, Ghost." I chided trying my best not to grin.

He chuckled at that.

"Hello, hello." She trilled into the microphone with her posh Capitol accent. A huge smile was pasted on her face.

The crowd remained silent, looking around, uncertain of how to respond.

With the smile still intact, she continued, introducing the mayor of District Six. Not that he needed an introduction. The mayor was a portly man, with a balding head of coarse gray hair, and a small mousy face.

He stepped up to the microphone. He had to stand on the tips of his toes in order to reach it. Cosette helped adjust it for him to which he blushed embarrassed.

Then he began to read, in a voice with a nasal quality, the same story that we heard every year.

By the time he ended with, "It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks." I am trying my best to keep a straight face, by chewing on the inside of my cheek. Throughout the whole speech Ghost had been imitating the mayor's nasally voice in my ear. Under normal circumstances I probably would have been sprawled on the floor in fits of laughter.

Then the mayor read the list of previous victors, it barely lasted a second. As if on cue, the morphling came up carrying the two glass balls that house the paper slips, one for the boys the other for the girls. From his appearance it was hard to believe that he had won so many years ago. His skin was a sickly yellow, and he was as thin as a skeleton. In fact, it was surprising that he managed to bear the brunt of the jars'. His knees trembled, and then it became apparent that he was struggling.

Cosette must have seen this too for she quickly snatched the glass jars and motioned for the morphling to take a seat.

"Shall we begin?" Cosette announced as she placed the glass balls on a table someone had helpfully moved on stage. Before anyone could reply, not that she was probably expecting one, she added, "Ladies first." Then she reached into a glass jar.

My throat went gone dry and I could hear the pounding of my heart in my ears. I could vaguely see Cosette's long fingers rummaging among the slips of paper as she pulled one out. Is it Kalel's? And then I wonder briefly if it's mine. Cosette held it up for everyone to see, prolonging the moment. If all the escorts didn't do it I would have suspected that she was gloating, drinking in the fear etched on everyone's face. After all, it was the only time in the whole procession that anyone seemed interested.

My grin had long ago faded and I could feel anxiety swimming through my veins. Ghost rubbed my arms were Goosebumps appeared, even though it was not the least bit cold. _Please don't let it be Kalel. Please don't let it be Kalel. _It became almost a chant in my mind.

I was quivering and my palms were sweaty as Cosette unfolded the paper slip. Then she strode over to the podium.

She coughed daintily to clear her throat. "Congratulations…"

_Please don't let it be Kalel. Please don't let it be Kalel. Please don't let it be Kalel._ And it wasn't.

"Congratulations Brionwy Wesberry."

My heart dropped somewhere into my stomach, and it felt like my blood had froze in my veins. At first my brain refused to register that it's me. Everyone turned to stare and for a horrible moment I felt like a cornered animal as I met a thousand eyes that I didn't recognize. Finally I found a pair of china blue ones. And somehow I made the connection that they belonged to Kalel. She had a somber look on her face. I felt Ghost nudge me from behind. That seemed to awaken my senses, at least.

I was running on sheer terror and dread as I robotically made my way up to aisle. I kept my head bowed. I hated the eyes and grave faces that bore into me; they were sad that someone was selected but secretly thankful that it wasn't them, their daughter, or their sister. I don't blame them. I probably would have felt the same. When I was a few feet from the steps, Cosette let out an impatient whistle and hopped down, grabbing my wrist, and pulled me the rest of the way.

"Congratulations Bri " She broke off uncertain of my name. At last she settles with just congratulations. I couldn't help but feel annoyed. I was going to die. The least she could do was learn my name.

I tried to force something comprehensible from my mouth but my mind just came out blank and I barely managed a nod.

Then as part of procedure she asked the crowd if anyone wished to volunteer in my place. No one ever volunteered. This was where family ties died. I was surprised that, for a second, Kalel hesitantly opened her mouth. I was touched by the gesture. And despite every nerve in my body that hoped someone else would take my place, I knew that I'd rather die than let it be Kalel. I shook my head quickly. She seemed to understand for she snapped her mouth shut.

"Alright then now for the gentlemen," Cosette said slightly disappointed. (She probably had decided that I was slow in the head and hardly would last a day in the games.) She dug around for a moment and took out a slip of paper. I pushed my worries into the corner of my mind, and started to pray that it wasn't Ryelf or Ghost. I crossed my fingers in the folds of my skirt for emphasis. As I looked into the crowd I could see Ghost his face was turned toward the ground. It was obscured by his hair. Then I found my brother. His green eyes appeared glassy and clouded by tears. Yet somehow he seemed to be staring back at me. Though, he wasn't really staring at me. As crazy as it sounded, he was looking into my soul.

_Don't worry Brionwy, you'll get out of this. You're a smart girl. _I could almost hear him say.

_I don't think so. _I replied.

Suddenly, Cosette's chirpy voice broke through our trace. "Congratulations Ryelf Wesberry."

I stumbled on stage. _Could fate be so cruel? It was his last year!_ I felt nauseous and sick.

For a moment, I registered the shock in Ryelf's green eyes. Then as quickly as it surfaced, his eyes hardened like steel. He walked to the stage. People stared, but he didn't seem to notice. He seemed confident and graceful, so different from the way that I had appeared. His head was held high and his back was straight.

I saw him the way others must have saw him. A young man. Though he was from the orphanage, it didn't show. He was tall, muscular, and well built. He was someone who had a fighting chance.

He made it to the stage. Our eyes met. One look and I knew, he was going to do everything in his power to get me home. I felt a sudden surge of alarm and immediately I shook my head.

"No," It took a moment for me to realize that I had said it out loud. It was a hoarse whisper and I doubt anyone heard. I wrenched my gaze from his. I diverted my attention anywhere. I looked at Cosette. I had to keep the tears at bay. For a second, it appeared that she must have realized that Ryelf and I were related. And for that heartbeat of a second, she appeared sad. Then she had completely masked her expression with a shockingly bright smile.

"Didn't want your little sister getting all the glory?" She asked.

Ryelf's lips pulled into a small sheepish smile. To most people it looked like he was embarrassed at being caught. For those that knew him well. It was evident that he was playing along for the cameras. "Yes madam."

Cosette giggle. A false, high and fake sound. Then she asked for volunteers. My heart beat frantically, hoping that someone, anyone would just step up and volunteer. No one volunteered. For the hundredth time that day I wanted to cry.

Then as customary, the two tributes had to shake hands. Ryelf's grip was firm. My hand quivered in his. He gave me the same look he had given me as he mounted the stage. _I won't let anything happen to you. _His look said.

I swallowed my fear and my worry. Then I matched his determined gaze. _You're the one who's getting home. It'll be the last thing I do._ I thought back. I knew he heard.

Oblivious to everything, Cosette sang in the background, "Happy Fifty-Second Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!" It was same closing she used every year.


End file.
